Catcher In The Rye :: Essays Papers

Catcher In The rye whiskeyOh literature, oh the glorious Art, how it preys upon the warmheartedness in our bones. It scoops the stuffing out of us and chucks us aside (David Herbert Lawrence). Well-written working of literature have the undeniable ability to kidnap readers, carry them international into the storys imaginary world, and hold the reader for ransom, away from a world where they may not be anticipating the return. This type of literary manage is scarce in todays fast-paced society. One is submitted into a fantasy, in which opinions and ideas about the characters and situations expand beyond all possibilities. Literature acts as a valuable aid for self-growth it nourishes intellect, cheers one up, or relaxes mind and spirit. Nikki Giovanni asks the question, perpetually been kidnaped/by a poet (Giovanni 346). If one has not yet been enriched by this expression, the arcanum must be unveiled. To say that I have experienced this feeling from only one piece of l iterature would prove a heavy(p) injustice to my literary history. There have been countless moments in my lifetime where I have left time and place to enter a world created by the author, but perfected by my own interpretations and impressions. The literary work that stands out most my mind is The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. This is one of the most absorbing novels I had the privilege to read. The plat of this story concerns a young man, Holden Caulfield, being expelled from one of a grand list of schools. The intriguing part of this story is how he perceives and understands his own military personnel condition. He experiences unexplained depression and erratic behavior, which leads to an eventual nervous division in a world he views as invaded by faux adults who corrupt innocent children. The title is justified when Holden is talking to his little sister. She asks what he wants to be when he grows up. He asks her if shes ever heard the breed If a body catc h a body comin through the rye. He continuesI keep picturing these little kids playing nearly peppy in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobodys around-nobody big, I mean-except me. And Im standing on the edge of some crazy cliff.